


the most famous man of all those times

by betony



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen, Period-Typical Bigotry, arthuriana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betony/pseuds/betony
Summary: The first Chrestomanci, as we would recognize him, has his origins with Merlinus.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosencrantz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosencrantz/gifts).



> For Rosencrantz, who wanted - among other excellent prompts!- an exploration of early Chrestomancis. 
> 
> Title after Tennyson, specifically "Merlin and Vivien."

The first Chrestomanci, as we would recognize him, has his origins with Merlinus. Despite having a scope of power more suggestive of an enchanter, Merlinus seems stubbornly to have used the self-appellation of wizard. 

Regardless, his status as a nine-lived enchanter cannot be ignored as he rose to prominence being killed by his first master, Vortigern. Lurid claims that he was meant to be a human sacrifice aside, it is more likely that it was meant as a traditional rite to appoint a court magic-worker. Likely the killing was meant to identify a nine-lived enchanter, as only his power would be considered satisfactory for a king. 

(Actually, he had no one to blame but himself. 

Merlin had always had the gift of shape-changing, it coming quicker to his mind than to any of the other boys in his village who played at magic. Like any other self respecting fifteen year old, of late his favorite occupation was having a sulk atop a suitably craggy cliff in the shape of a scarlet dragon. That was all right, but what wasn't so much was the pale dragon that had found him when he was perched by the Kings castle, brooding on how no one understood him. 

Later, after Vortigern had rescued him -admittedly by shooting him along with the other dragon, but what was a little murder between friends?- Merlin, his cheeks red as his scales had been, mumbled, "it was only trying to get to know me a little better."

Vortigern, not much older, barked out a laugh. "If that's what they call it wherever you're from." And then, with only a little bit of wariness:"look here. Weren't you _dead_ a minute ago?") 

Despite the truth and extent of his powers, Merlinus is responsible for both the connection between government and magic-worker as a post rather than a birthright as well as establishing the tradition that each Chrestomanci identify and train his successor. 

In those days, crafts were passed down from father to son, but the offspring of nine-lived enchanters famously do not their sire's lives, and so any attempt, to create a dynasty of Royal magic-workers had failed previous to Merlinus's decision. 

For his first--and as it turned out, only--student, Merlinus chose a young lady of the name of Nimue. Her antecedents as cloaked in as much mystery as her instructor's; what scant stories we have of her usually feature her drowning in some lake or another.

(He found her after the third time he had died, but before he had to use his fourth life to recover the magic sword from the enchanted lake since Arthur had broken his last one. With no little irritation, Merlin wished young people these days took better care of their belongings: in his day, if someone went to the trouble of giving you an enchanted sword, you made sure you took care of it. So out they sailed, him and Arthur, and just as Merlin took a deep breath in preparation to dive in, up floated Nimue. 

Or rather, her corpse, conveniently with a sword clutched to her chest. Merlin hauled her up, handed the sword to Arthur, who looked rather aghast by the point ---and the blasted girl's eyelashes fluttered.

"Oh bother," she mumbled. "I'll never use a traveling spell again."

Despite himself, Merlin smiled. 

"My dear girl," he said with malicious glee. "I don't suppose you noticed you were dead?") 

From this one might assume she was a nine-lived enchanter, surely the only female nature granted such an overwhelming gift to. Infamously, she seems quite unable to resist the predilection of young ladies to meddle with love affairs: one fragment relates her placing multiple love spells on one unfortunate Pelleas and his beloved Ettard. A Sir Gawain is also mentioned but surely was only unintentionally caught up in the whole sordid affair.

("It wasn't my fault." 

"I've informed you that I don't want to know." 

"But how was I to know the silly man would get in my way when I cast the spell? And again, when I cast the counter-spell?"

"If there is one thing I've learned after spending fifty years at Camelot, it's never expect that a knight and a lady will keep themselves free from magic if they has a way to ruin their lives with it. They love it, the fools - never see a curse or enchantment that they don't lunge towards it."

"They can't be that bad, surely." 

"I'm happy to hear your optimism. You'll be spending your time nursemaiding them until the whole sorry business is over.") 

Of note, Nimue's other legacy is a far more chilling one: She seems to have been the first to discover a way to murder a nine-lived enchanter. 

In the past, this had been thought impossible. Enchanters, having so many lives to fall back on, generally survived to a long happy age. 

This changed when Nimue and her mentor fell out. No one is sure why. Perhaps he made advances at her, or more likely the girl misinterpreted a stray remark that he had made. Perhaps ambition overwhelmed her. Perhaps the stress of the position overcame her. Whatever the reason, Nimue decided her master must die. 

(The room was quiet. She had never seen the old goat so still. The air hung heavy with misery, and then she felt the ebb of his fifth life leaving him. She waited until the old rheumy eyes opened again, yellowish these days but as cold and hard as ever. 

"That's five done," she said as brightly as she could manage. "Only--" 

"Four left," he finished. "Nimue. Child."

He had never sounded so tender before. It made her stomach churn. 

"No," she said, sharp and harsh. "I can't, I won't, I still need you." 

" Nimue," and this time more impatient, more familiar. "You are ready. I have raised you, I have trained you--" His voice broke. "My dear girl. Set me free.") 

She may have tried the usual tricks: iron and poison and rope. None of them would have served their purpose. Finally, she came across an ingenious idea: if she could not kill him, something else would. And if his life would return, let it be taken from him time again until his luck, and his lives, ran out. She lured him to Broceliande, which goes to show that no good ever comes of a romantic holiday in France, and sealed him inside a great oak tree, to suffocate nine times over. 

Despite it all, Nimue failed in one essential aspect: Merlinus she may have destroyed, but not his legacy. Through him, the chain of nine-lived enchanters has continued unbroken to the present day - a central aspect of our Government even now.

("What do I do now, you selfish old fool?" she whispered as the bark slid over Merlin's wizened face.

There was salt on her tongue, from her tears and her blood when she'd bitten her tongue.

A dismissive snort sounded in her mind, so like his. _You don't need me to tell you. Find some other nine-lived nitwit. Train him to follow in our path. And do stop blubbering._

She stopped. She straightened. She stepped towards her future.


End file.
